Small Injuries
by elbcw
Summary: 'They were running through a wood that none of them knew, whilst being pursued by men who would not think twice about killing them. Porthos and d'Artagnan were injured and Aramis was still restrained. They could not stop to tend to the injuries and there was no time to untie Aramis. Athos decided this was not a mission that was going well.' Everyone gets whumped a little bit.
1. Chapter 1

Small Injuries

Chapter One

Porthos howled in pain as the hot metal was pressed against his arm, he swore, loudly, at the man holding the poker. When the poker was removed and the man stepped away he visibly sagged, breathing hard.

Athos scowled at their captor. The man had spent some time asking them what they knew, and when none of them had responded he had walked over to the camp fire and pulled the previously inserted poker out. He had walked with purpose towards Porthos and without ceremony pulled his shirt away from his shoulder and cruelly burnt the musketeer.

Aramis and d'Artagnan had complained at their friend's treatment, whilst Athos had glared silently for a few moments before saying in as calm a voice as he could muster, 'we do not have the information you want. We are not the group who were sent to collect the missive. You have the wrong musketeers.'

The man with the poker walked across to where Athos sat, he crouched down, the still hot poker held to his side. Athos could feel the heat.

'Well why didn't you say so sooner?' he said, his tone sarcastic, 'we could have avoided all this unpleasantness…' the poker was swung closer to his face, he unconsciously moved back a little, 'I do not believe you.'

He stood and walked back a few paces before his eyes settled on d'Artagnan, who was sat next to Athos. The man stepped forward, bringing the poker up, he paused for few moments as if deciding where to lay the metal on his next victim. As he was about to step forward one of the other men shouted out.

'Excuse me a moment, I'm needed…look after this for me, will you?'

The man twisted the poker around and pushed the cool end into the soft earth by d'Artagnan, the hot end dangerously close to the young man's arm. Their captor walked away.

MMMM

D'Artagnan wondered if he could be burnt just from the proximity of the poker. He tried to shift away slightly, as he moved the poker fell forward, a little closer.

They had not been taken by surprise, they were prepared, they had even taken out a couple of the men before the attackers had them overwhelmed. Bound firmly with ropes around their wrists and ankles they had been forced to sit on the damp ground whilst the leader of the men questioned them. The man was lean and tall, he had steely eyes that were constantly threatening. There did not appear to be a kindly bone in his body.

When they had been questioned, they each remained silent. The man had asked each of them in turn the same question about a missive. They knew he had the wrong musketeers but they were not going to tell him that, at least d'Artagnan had thought that would be the plan. He had been surprised when Athos had told him they were the wrong musketeers. But Athos always knew what he was doing.

The heat from the poker was close to his arm. If he still had his doublet on he probably would not have felt quite so exposed to the hot poker. An idea occurred to him.

He twisted around slightly and managed to move his bound wrists up to the heat of the metal. It was uncomfortable but he could put up with it.

'What are you doing?' hissed Aramis from the other side of Porthos.

'Getting us out of this, keep an eye on him.'

Aramis looked back towards their captors, who were searching though their belongings, then returned his gaze to d'Artagnan, 'you'll burn yourself.'

'And you can put a bandage on it,' replied d'Artagnan with determination.

'Be quick,' Porthos managed to say.

D'Artagnan was glad Porthos had managed to regain his focus after being burnt. Whilst Porthos might be fine for a little while, particularly if his escape attempt worked, the man would feel the pain of the burn soon.

The ropes were smouldering, he had to concentrate not to pull away from the heat. His fingers were being burnt where he was forcing the rope against the poker. He screwed his eyes shut and tried to regulate his breathing. D'Artagnan started to wonder if he would be able to persevere long enough to burn through the thick scratchy rope which had been used to bind them.

'You're nearly through,' said Athos who had managed to shuffle back a little to watch his progress, 'try pulling your arms apart.'

D'Artagnan forced his arms apart, the rope fell. He quickly leaned forward and started to untie the rope around his ankles. He knew he had to be quick, the man could return at any moment and his hands were already starting to smart from the burns. He wondered how bad the pain would get, if he would be able to move his fingers again. He pushed the worry away, the first thing he had to do was free himself and his brothers.

Once the rope fell from his ankles, he moved across to Athos, the rope around his wrists was tight, it took him longer than he would have liked to undo, but he managed it. Athos immediately got to work on the rope around his ankles as d'Artagnan moved across to Porthos who winced as he pulled at the rope binding his injured arm.

Their captors were still deep in conversation, d'Artagnan could not believe their luck, they were nearly all free. He began to untie the rope around Porthos' ankles. The big musketeer was cradling his injured arm as he watched.

Athos moved across to Aramis who said, 'there's no time, just untie my legs and let's get out of here.'

Athos did as he was told, after untying the rope around the marksman's ankles, he hauled Aramis up. They moved as silently as they could away from their captors, keeping low. With his arms still bound behind him Aramis had a little trouble keeping his balance, Athos kept a steadying hand on his arm.

They reached the tree line leaving the clearing behind them. But their time was up, a shout of annoyance behind them forced them into a run.

MMMM

They were running through a wood that none of them knew, whilst being pursued by men who probably would not think twice about killing them. Porthos and d'Artagnan were injured and Aramis was still restrained. They could not stop to tend to the injuries and there was no time to untie Aramis.

Athos decided this was not a mission that was going well.

They were on their way back from delivering important documents. They had set up camp for the night when the men attacked, they had nothing of value on them. Athos suspected their captors knew that now, but that did not mean they were safe. The men were chasing them, they wanted them caught again. Four Kings Musketeers were valuable in other ways. Even though they did not have the information the men clearly wanted, there was always the possibility they had other information which might be useful to someone.

Aramis was breathing hard next to Athos, they were running at a reasonable pace, and with his arms pulled back behind him Aramis was having a hard time taking enough air into his lungs. Athos knew they could not continue for long as they were. He looked ahead at the others.

Porthos was not using his burnt right arm, keeping it clutched protectively across him, any time he needed to move a tree branch or clamber over a fallen log he was reaching out with his left arm.

D'Artagnan had both his hands held close to his chest and was having to step carefully each time he would normally have reached out with his hand to steady himself.

Athos realised he was the only one of them who had full use of his arms. He reached out and grabbed Aramis as he stumbled again, pulling him back up and urging him forward.

They could hear the men following them, they were at a severe disadvantage. Aramis fell again, this time Athos could not keep hold of him. The marksman went down hard on his side with a yelp.

The others paused looking back concerned, 'keep going,' said Athos waving them on as he reached down to pull Aramis back up, 'OK?'

Aramis could only nod, as he managed to get his feet under him and move off again. Athos noted that the marksman's shirt and breeches had been torn when he fell, but there was no time to fully check him for injuries.

Their captors were gaining on them.

MMMM


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

The men following must have spotted them as a couple of guns were fired in their direction. Aramis renewed his efforts to stay upright. The fall had hurt, he knew he would be bruised and he knew that he would be stiff after they rested, if they ever got a chance to rest. His shoulders hurt and he could barely feel his hands and arms. The ropes were tight around his wrists. Now he wished they had taken the time to free him completely before they ran. He was also struggling for breath; his vision was stating to go fuzzy. But they had to keep moving.

A yelp behind him had him slow and turn, Athos had been hit when the guns had been fired. He was clutching his left arm with his right. He was still moving easily and waved Aramis on with his bloody hand. It was clearly not serious enough to force the swordsman to stop running. But it would have to be looked at, as would the burns on Porthos and d'Artagnan. They were all injured in some way now.

The trees and undergrowth in the area they were running through had become thicker. It was getting more difficult to negotiate their way. Aramis was forced to wait for Athos to help him, grabbing his bound arm to steady him as he clambered over a fallen tree trunk, as he went to move off again Athos stopped him.

'Listen.'

The sounds of the pursuit had stopped. Ahead of them Porthos and d'Artagnan stopped as well. They were all breathing hard, d'Artagnan looked to be in quite a lot of pain.

'Let's get hidden before we sort ourselves out…' said Athos looking around.

In the relative silence, the noise of running water became apparent. D'Artagnan took a few steps towards the source of the sound.

'It looks like there are overhanging rocks on the other side,' he said as the others joined him.

'Perfect,' said Porthos as he clambered down the bank of the small river and managed to cross it using protruding rocks to keep dry.

'Should we get you untied first?' asked Athos looking between Aramis and the short decent to the stream and the rocks across it.

'I can't feel…my arms now anyway,' panted Aramis, 'let's get hidden away first, much as I want to be…untied, it is not going to be pleasant.'

Aramis knew it was going to hurt as the blood started to circulate properly in his hands and arms once he was untied.

Athos helped him down to the river then steadied him as they used the rocks to cross the shallow water. None of them fancied getting wet.

MMMM

Porthos moved to the back of the overhanging rock, it was not really a cave but it would provide them with enough cover for now. They needed to tend to their injuries and catch their breath.

Athos had guided the still bound Aramis over from the stream. He forced Aramis down onto his knees. The marksman was breathing hard, almost gasping for breath. The pressure of having his arms pulled back for so long and being forced to run had exhausted him.

Porthos moved to kneel in front of Aramis and steadied his shoulders as Athos began untying the rope. Aramis rested his head on Porthos shoulder as he tried to calm his breathing. Porthos knew that Aramis was probably in danger of passing out.

'Easy,' he said, 'need you awake to see to our injuries.'

Aramis whimpered in pain as the rope fell away from his wrists. Between them Athos and Porthos manoeuvred the newly liberated man's arms around to rest in his lap. Porthos rubbed at Aramis' shoulders in a vain hope of easing some of the pain. But he knew his friend would probably be suffering for some time from the strain on his shoulders.

Athos moved to sit by d'Artagnan who had perched on a narrow ledge at the side of their temporary hideout.

'He'll be alright in a few minutes,' Porthos heard Athos say quietly to the concerned looking d'Artagnan.

'I'm fine…now…' managed Aramis between gasped breathes.

'No, you're not,' said Porthos pushing his friend back up to look at him, 'can you even feel your hands?'

'Well, no…but I…will be…able to…' Aramis hissed.

Porthos managed a chuckle as he watched his friend's face contort in pain as the feeling slowly returned to his abused arms. He pulled the marksman back towards him and held onto him for a few more minutes whilst his breathing settled and he made the occasional sound of discomfort.

'How bad are your hands?' asked Porthos looking over the top of Aramis' heaving shoulders.

D'Artagnan looked down at his fingers and palms, 'they hurt…' he tried moving his fingers, 'and it's hard to move them.'

'How cold is…the water?' Aramis' voice sounded slightly muffled as he spoke with his forehead still pressed against Porthos' shoulder.

Athos walked across and reached down trailing his hand into the flow of water, 'it is cool, not too cold.'

D'Artagnan understood and moved across, he knelt and dipped both his hands into the river, Athos remained by his side looking back the way they had come.

'Any signs of them?' asked Porthos as he helped Aramis to sit back up.

'No, but we really cannot linger here any longer than is necessary,' replied Athos looking back at them.

Aramis was trying to move his fingers without success, he looked at Porthos, 'show me the burn on your arm.'

Porthos obliged, he knew there would be little that could be done, 'another scar to add to the collection,' he said with a grin.

'You can at least clean it,' said Aramis nodding towards the river.

'What about your leg and arm, you cannot hide the tears to your clothes,' said Athos as he crossed back to where the marksman was sat. Aramis had managed to twist around and lean against the back of the overhanging rock.

Porthos looked back concerned, he had not noticed that Aramis had other injuries. Athos knelt next to Aramis and pushed the torn fabric of his breeches apart. The marksman's leg was already a mess of angry bruises, his arm the same.

'If we stop for too long I will get stiff,' said Aramis, who was clearly too fatigued to try and cover up the extent of his injuries, 'and your arm?'

Porthos looked across as Athos and noticed the bloody stain across his left arm. Athos pushed up his sleeve to show a slight furrow across the skin. The wound was barely bleeding, Aramis looked at him then pointed at the stream. Athos made a small mocking bow and walked across to clean the wound.

'So, we're all injured?' said d'Artagnan looking up from staring at his burnt hands.

'But they are all small injuries,' said Aramis as he continued to move his fingers as the blood started to flow properly to his hands.

Athos finished cleaning the dirt from his wound and stood up, 'all the more reason to keep moving, the greater distance we can put between them and us the better.'

MMMM


	3. Chapter 3

Authors note: To those readers wondering, I have no ideas why the baddies stopped following them…they just did. (The author was not concerned about the baddies when she was writing this!)

Chapter Three

'The only problem,' said Porthos rising, 'is that the direction they are in,' he pointed back the way they had come, 'is the direction we need to go in.'

Aramis thought about their location. Porthos was right, the nearest large settlement and therefore safety was back the way they had come.

'We will have to circle around. It would be better if we could retrieve our things. I doubt they will stay by the camp,' said Athos as he rolled his sleeve back down and then stooped down to help d'Artagnan back to his feet.

'They'll probably steal all our stuff,' Porthos said with a frown, 'but you're right, we need to circle around and at least see if anything is left.'

Porthos stepped up to Aramis and put out his left arm to help him up. With a wince of pain Aramis managed to stand, although as he had predicted he was already starting to stiffen up. The feeling had returned to his arms and he could move his fingers again with little difficulty, but his bruised left leg was aching from the movement.

'Let's move off, I think we can go a bit slower now, we will move that way for a while before circling back around,' Athos indicated the way as he moved away from the overhanging rock.

Aramis noticed that the direction Athos had chosen would not involve the steeper side of the bank. Athos had no doubt chosen the direction in deference to his and d'Artagnan's injuries. Aramis found that he could move fairly easily once he got started. The terrain was not particularly forgiving, but now that he had the use of his hands again he found it was easier to deal with. One thing he was not pleased about was the headache the tension in his sore shoulders was causing. He hoped it would wear off, he certainly was not going to bother the others with something so trivial.

Porthos was walking with d'Artagnan who was still being forced to step carefully, he did not want to fall and be forced to put his hands out. The burns on the young man's hands would heal and probably not leave any scars, but they would be painful for a time and he would not be able to grip anything for a while. Aramis hated to imagine how they were going to get him up onto his horse if they were lucky enough to find their camp untouched by the men who had attacked them.

They walked for some time, they were lucky that the weather was being kind to them. The afternoon sun was warm and there was no hint of wind or rain. Dressed only in their shirts, breeches and boots they would suffer if the weather were to turn nasty.

Athos eventually decided they had walked far enough and could have another short break, Aramis eased himself down onto a fallen tree trunk, the thought of making it all the way to the floor and then back up again was not appealing.

'How bad is it?' asked Athos as he sat beside him.

'Painful, but I can still walk…not sure about running now though,' replied Aramis.

'Anything else?'

Aramis sighed, Athos was surely a mind reader, 'my headaches,' he confessed, 'but it's OK.'

'Well let me know if you need to stop more frequently,' said Athos, clearly satisfied that Aramis had been honest with him.

D'Artagnan had walked a few paces away then paused and appeared to be contemplating something he turned back to the others.

'Um…I…err…can't undo…um…' he looked at his hands, glanced at the buttons on his breeches and them at them with a very embarrassed expression, his cheeks flushed.

Porthos chuckled as he stood up and walked over, he turned the man around and they walked off together a few paces to give d'Artagnan some privacy whilst he dealt with his issue.

Aramis could not help smirking even when Athos gave him a stern look.

'I'm sorry, but it is funny,' he said watching as Athos tried to hide a smile.

When the others returned d'Artagnan was still red faced with embarrassment, 'oh don't worry about it d'Artagnan, when you have been on the battle field such things will not bother you in the slightest,' remarked Aramis as he stood up.

D'Artagnan gave a monosyllabic grunt in response causing Porthos to chuckle again.

MMMM

With no further signs of being pursued they were able to walk at a more sensible pace given their assortment of injuries. Porthos had noticed that Aramis was struggling, he had fallen to the back of their little group and was increasingly pausing and leaning against any available tree every few minutes.

Athos stopped and called back, 'do you need to stop Aramis?'

Porthos was a little surprised at Athos' tone, he had snapped at Aramis quite unnecessarily. He knew Aramis was going to struggle despite their slower pace.

'Keep going, I can catch you up,' said Aramis waving them on.

'You two keep going, I'll stay with him,' said Porthos who could see that Athos was angry, although he could not work out why.

D'Artagnan picked up on the tension, 'we'll keep going for a bit, it's getting dark, we're going to have to find somewhere safe to spend the night.'

Athos turned and started walking away. D'Artagnan glanced back at Porthos who shrugged.

'We won't go too far,' said d'Artagnan as he followed Athos.

Porthos watched them go for a few seconds then turned back to Aramis who had managed to limp across.

'What's annoyed him?' asked Aramis.

'You, I think.'

'We'd better not keep him waiting then,' replied Aramis as he limped forward again.

Porthos grabbed Aramis' right arm and pulled it across his shoulder as he slipped his left arm around the injured man's waist.

'Don't make your own injury worse,' said Aramis as he allowed Porthos to help him.

Porthos huffed and continued to help him.

MMMM

Athos was getting a little annoyed at the slow pace. Whilst he appreciated that they were all injured and that Aramis was struggling to walk he would have preferred to get back to their camp before nightfall.

He wondered if he had made a mistake taking such a circuitous route. The gang had stopped following them and he doubted they would remain at the camp. They probably could have risked going back the way they had come.

He shivered, not for the first time, and wondered how they would manage overnight. He glanced across at d'Artagnan who was walking beside him, the young man was still holding his hands carefully in front of him. He was obviously in pain.

'Your hands will heal,' he said, 'I doubt you will lose any movements in them, you were lucky.'

'I don't feel particularly lucky at the moment,' replied the musketeer.

'Do not wallow in self-pity, we just have to get on with it.'

D'Artagnan looked at him a little shocked. Athos refused to molly coddle him. He glanced behind and wondered why Porthos and Aramis were taking so long. He sighed and decided they would just have to stop where they were, a couple of trees with low branches would provide them with some cover for the night, the ground slightly hollowed between them.

'This will do,' he looked across at some bushes, 'those bushes, the berries on them are edible, go and pick some for us.'

Athos looked at d'Artagnan when he did not move, instead holding up his injured hands. Athos rolled his eyes, it appeared he had to take care of everything.

MMMM


	4. Chapter 4

Author note: Last chapter, thanks for all the reviews and favourites.

Chapter Four

Porthos helped Aramis down to the ground and wandered off to see what Athos was doing. D'Artagnan joined Aramis flopping to the floor in a most ungainly way without the use of his hands.

'You OK?' asked Aramis eyeing the young man with concern.

D'Artagnan glanced over to Athos.

'Ah…I am not the only one who has been on the receiving end of his mood then?'

'He's not normally this short with me. I know he can be firm but he's being quite irritable.'

Porthos returned to sit with them, he glanced over to Athos before speaking.

'I think he's ill.'

Aramis and d'Artagnan looked at him.

'He looks flushed and he's really grumpy, do you think his wound is infected?'

'Surely not, it's too soon, he was only injured a few hours ago?' said d'Artagnan.

'Let's not jump to conclusions, we're all tired, it could just be that. We'll keep an eye on him,' said Aramis quietly.

Athos returned to them, he had a handful of berries that he passed to Aramis, 'share those out.'

Aramis did as he was told giving some to Porthos and then helping d'Artagnan to eat a few. It was not much but they were glad of it. Aramis glanced at Athos, he looked hot and was shivering every so often.

He looked back at Porthos and nodded. Athos was clearly not well. Their day was not getting any better.

'Athos, how long have you been ill for?' asked Aramis turning back to the swordsman.

Athos looked at him confused, 'I'm not ill…I'm not the one slowing us down or not pulling their weight.'

'OK Athos, why don't you try to sleep for a bit, we'll push on in the morning.'

'You probably won't be able to move by then…' mumbled Athos as he lay down and turned his back on them.

Aramis watched him for a few minutes, when he was sure Athos was asleep he reached out and felt the back of his neck.

'He is very warm…but the wound…' he gently pulled up Athos' shirt sleeve to reveal the gun shot injury, which was barely a scratch across his arm, '…is not infected.'

'So, what's caused him to be feverish?' asked d'Artagnan.

'Any number of things…I hate to ask, but do you think you two could get back to the camp and see if there is anything left?'

'Will you be OK on your own with him?' asked Porthos concerned.

'As it gets worse, which it will, he'll probably just sleep so I shouldn't have a problem with him, but we need to get warm clothes, food and water. This is not really the best place to be dealing with a fever.'

The others agreed. Porthos rose and helped d'Artagnan up, they continued on towards the camp. Aramis could only hope that the gang had left, leaving their belongings behind.

Aramis watched his friends go, then returned his attention to Athos who despite running a temperature was shivering.

'I'm sorry, my friend,' he said even though Athos was sleeping, 'I can't do anything for you.'

He lay down beside Athos and hoped that his proximity would help to warm his ill friend.

MMMM

They had a few hours of daylight left, but it felt darker as they progressed through the woods. With just the two of them they were able to move faster. They did not talk, Porthos helping d'Artagnan over the more challenging terrain where necessary. The one thing that continued to worry Porthos was what kind of state their camp would be in? And would the gang still be there?

As they neared the area of the camp they slowed and walked as quietly as they could. Eventually Porthos knew he would have to proceed alone. It was too difficult for him to watch out for d'Artagnan and himself. He stopped and indicated for d'Artagnan to sit down.

'I'm sorry, you'll have to wait here, we're going to be too loud together.'

D'Artagnan nodded, 'I understand, be careful.'

Porthos stood up and with a last glance at d'Artagnan he continued towards the camp. As he neared, he paused frequently and listened, he could not hear anything. He reached the break in the trees that they had left by that morning.

The camp was deserted. Porthos sighed with relief. He turned and called out to d'Artagnan who responded that he was on his way.

Moving into the camp Porthos surveyed the damage. The horses were gone, but he had expected that. There was no sign of their weapons, which again he was expecting. But their bed rolls, doublets and some other items had been left, they were in disarray but that did not matter. He looked around the area where Aramis had slept the night before. His medical kit was still there, untouched. At least they would be able to properly clean and dress their injuries now.

D'Artagnan walked through the remains of their camp and joined him.

'Sit there and let's get ourselves dealt with first,' said Porthos indicating for d'Artagnan to sit on the ground by him.

'Aramis would insist,' he agreed as he managed to make himself comfortable, sitting cross legged with his hands resting on his knees.

Porthos carefully washed and bandaged d'Artagnan's hands. The burns did not look as bad as they had but were obviously still causing the young man issues. Once bandaged up d'Artagnan was able to help Porthos wrap a dressing over the burn on his arm.

'At least it still looks clean, does it hurt?'

'If I use the arm it's painful, but otherwise not much…did they leave us any food?'

Porthos watched as d'Artagnan poked about their bags, before fumbling a bit and gingerly picking up a small parcel from Athos' bag.'

'Bread and some dried meat.'

'Excellent,' said Porthos taking the parcel and putting it into Aramis' medical bag.

They collected their jackets and some blankets together with some water, 'let's head back,' said d'Artagnan, 'we should be able to make it before it's completely dark.'

MMMM

When they returned to Athos and Aramis there was very little light left. Both their friends were sleeping huddled together. Athos looked pale and sweaty. They were both shivering, Porthos lay a couple of the blankets over the sleeping musketeers before turning to d'Artagnan.

'Can you gather some dry wood, we'll get a fire going,' he said.

D'Artagnan wandered around the small clearing and managed to collect enough wood to start a reasonable fire. Now that his hands had been bandaged he found that he could pick up things. It was awkward but not as painful as it had been before they were bandaged.

He watched as Porthos lit some kindling and gradually fed the fire. Aramis stirred and turned on his back before realising he was not alone. He sat up blinking at them.

'How are you?' asked Porthos handing him his doublet.

'Cold,' replied Aramis as he struggled into his jacket, eventually accepting Porthos' help when his bruised arm and sore shoulders would not cooperate.

'Athos?'

'He woke up a couple of times but wasn't making any sense. Hopefully it won't get any worse. Next time he wakes we need to get some water in him. Did you dress your wound?'

D'Artagnan smirked, 'of course he did, we know better than that.' He held out his own bandaged hands, Aramis smiled.

They sat for a few minutes hoping that the activity would rouse Athos but he remained asleep.

'You two sleep for a bit, I'll be able to stay awake now,' said Aramis.

D'Artagnan was glad of the chance to properly rest. He knew Porthos was struggling to stay awake as well. They settled down by the fire. The pull of sleep took them within minutes.

MMMM

Athos awoke to find three sleeping musketeers surrounding him. The fire was in danger of going out so he shuffled over and added a few bits of wood. Once the flames had started to build again he moved back to his place next to Aramis. He noticed the water skin held loosely in his friend's hand. Realising Aramis must have been waiting for him to wake to give him water he took the skin and drank.

He felt hot and cold and his muscles were aching, he realised he had a fever, or at least was getting over one.

He thought about what had happened and sighed when he remembered how irritable he had been with them earlier. He regretted his actions, but knew it was because he was unwell. He knew they would not hold it against him.

'Are you feeling better?' asked Aramis.

Athos looked down at the marksman and smiled. Aramis pulled himself up and once settled in a seated position he reached up and felt Athos skin. Athos did not stop him.

'You're not as hot as you were.'

'I'm sorry, I hadn't realised I was that ill.'

Aramis raised an eyebrow.

'Yes, I know, I should have said…but it crept up on me.'

Aramis smiled and nodded, 'yes you should have told us. We were quite concerned.'

'Did I…say anything…inappropriate?'

Aramis smirked, 'you managed to snap at us all, more than once.'

'Sorry.'

'That's how we knew you weren't well.'

'Oh.'

'Now,' said Aramis, 'drink and eat and then rest some more. We need you better, at least well enough to walk on your own…'

Athos stared at Aramis not understanding.

'…because I'm going to need help walking. Your fever is getting better quicker than my bruised leg is.'

'Who would have thought that so many small injuries could cause such an issue.'

Aramis nodded his agreement as he shared out some of the bread and urged Athos to drink some more water.

The End

Authors note: Sorry it was only a little fever! I'll work up to giving one of them a proper infected nasty fever at some point.

I have an idea of where this could progress to. Those baddies might not have gone as far away as I first thought. But I don't have the story fully formed yet, so you may have to wait a bit.


End file.
